


SMACK TO THE HEAD

by thoughtsdemise



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Adventure, Brainstorm needs a cage, Humor, M/M, Mech/Mech, Violent Humor, Warped Reality (AU), drift petting, flirty ratchet, threesome?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 09:36:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7710097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsdemise/pseuds/thoughtsdemise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moments of happiness and smacks to the head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	SMACK TO THE HEAD

-Tired Joints-

Prompt:   _Kneading and massaging_ __- _another medic would be better suited to deal with such things so says the Brainstorm logic center._

Drift gathers the supplies in one arm and nervously checks over his appearance in the dull surface of the metal wall.  He clears his vents and raises a hand to tap on Ratchet’s hab suit door.  He pauses when he hears a pleased gasp from a familiar vocalizer.  A bit shocked, he tunes up his audios and catches another vocal pattern he did not quite recognize next to his Ratchet’s.   _ No!  _  Drift scolds himself.   _ No not my Ratchet, at least not yet.   _ When he tunes in to Brainstorm’s chipper vocalizer.  The angry rev of a highly tuned sports engine has the scientist answering the door.

“Drift, perfect timing!”  Brainstorm’s field glowed with the absolute need to brag.  He pulls the angry mech into the room as Ratchet’s vocalizer lets out a pleased rumble.

Blue optics widen as Drift takes in the scene before him.   Ratchet was laid out on his berth.  His helm fell back with each pleased moan and shiver of his frame.  Propped up on his elbows the medic looked deliriously happy to Drift.  Jealousy tickled the swordsmech’s spark.  His optics traced the line of red and white frame to Ratchet’s peds.  He jerked in surprise at the red digits working carefully into ankle joints.

“Amazing isn’t it?  Perceptor could’ve never thought of something like this!!”  Brainstorm had draped himself around Drift’s shoulders as he bragged and gestured at a mech who looked more and more familiar the longer Drift stared.  Brainstorm continued to babble about how he had done something no one had thought of yet.

“Two Ratchets,” Drift muttered dumbly.

“What?  Oh yes two Ratchets.”  Brainstorms smacked Drift on the back and went over to pick up the pieces of his busted machine.  The same machine that Drift reasoned must have brought the second Ratchet here to the Lost Light.

The second Ratchet whose red digits teasingly tickled over a particular sensitive wire that made the first Ratchet gasp and purr his engine.  Drift watched as one Ratchet winked at the other, and they both shared a quick smile.

Brainstorm excuses himself, leaving Drift alone with both Ratchets who were caught up in the act of kneading wires and joints to relaxation.   _ “Sometimes I’m tempted to make Brainstorm or Perceptor clone me.” _  Unbidden a conversation between the first Ratchet and Magnus came to Drift’s mind.  The clattering of supplies across a floor is accompanied by suddenly clumsy ped steps as Drift beats a quick retreat.

The spike in temperature a sure give away to the defrag sequences he had experienced for several weeks after that overheard snark.  Drift dives into his own berth and tries to tell himself it was all a desperate need for some deep defrag, and he had not seen two of the mech he had come to desire.  His engine cranks up a notch at the thought of those nimble red digits.  Drift whined and buried his helm deeper beneath the blankets.  This was one nutty adventure he wasn’t sure he was ready for.

-A Shared Cup of Grump-

Prompt:   _ Giggling over a warm drink and tickling. _

Drift stared moodily into his energon.  He makes a disgusted should as laughter reaches his audios.  He took a large swig before slamming the half empty cube back on the table.  He contemplates that maybe coming to Swerve’s before his duty shift to help calm his roaring processor had been a bad idea, one in the line of many since the arrival of Ratch-two.  It sure hadn’t helped his mood any that his defrag cycles were becoming more broken the longer this interloper made himself at home in his Ratchet’s quarters.  Drift hunches his shoulders and pouts like an organic youngling.  He could protest to Rodimus’ teasing all he wanted, but his spark earned for the medic of the Lost Light.  He peeks across the room and has to duck his head as his facial plates heat at the scene.

Ratch-two was dancing on a tabletop, singing at the top of his vocalizer and trying to pull Ratch-one onto the table with him.  He was winking and shaking that red aft back and forth in a carefree manner.  Ratch-one was clearly enjoying the show if that goofy grin was anything to judge by.  Ratch-two pounced on Ratch-one when he was unable to coax the other mech up onto the table with him, and he was merciless as he went for all the most ticklish spots.

Drift’s audio finials wiggled to the high-pitched laughter.  His processor betrays his spark by unhelpfully supplying Drift with images of his Ratchet wiggling beneath his own digits as he found those tickle spots.  Or how pleased Ratchet would look as Drift ran a waxing cloth over the medic’s plating.  Drift rose with a pitiful exvent.  He made for the exit to start his shift.  He hadn’t meant to glance over his shoulder at the writhing medics too caught up in trying to tickle the other into submission as Ratch-one decided to give as good as he got.  Drift walked into the door frame as Ratch-two caught his optics with a slow wink and interested smile.

Drift held his helm with growled expletives, chancing a quick glance at the Ratchet pile.  Ratch-two was sitting in Ratch-one’s lap playing with an audio and whispering to him.  Ratch-two’s optics were keen on Drift as the medic’s smile grew. Ratch-one’s helm was turned toward Drift.  His Ratchet looked surprised by something Ratch-two whispered, but the surprise quickly melted into interest that was clear even across the room.  Ratch-two sips from a cube energon and winks at Drift’s again as the swordsmech balks and runs flat out for the bridge where temptation wasn’t staring him straight in his face.

And Drift had a sinking feeling his tank that his life was about to become a whole lot more complicated if he had read that devious smile right.  Drift makes a small noise and smacks his helm against a consol.

-A Wild Drift Appears Cornered-

Prompt:   _ Cheeky teasing and playful wrestling/petting. _

The visiting CMO has to smile at the third in command of the Lost Light.  It was almost adorable the way the mech had backed himself into a corner and was trying his best to appear intimidating.  Ratchet scoffs and runs a hand over his side to settle on a red hip.  He also didn’t miss how Drift’s warning growl from the speedster engine turned into a rolling purr of appreciation or the way Drift’s optics lightened with pleasure.  Ratchet raises one red digit to his lips and tapped  them.  He smiles and purrs his own engine invitingly, remembering what this dimension’s Ratchet had said about this mech designated Drift.

Drift cuts his purring off and presses deeper into the corner even though his very code was telling him to pounce on the medic while the pouncing was offered.  Drift fluffs his plating and tries to look bigger than the medic in front of him.  He only reward was a warm smile and an increase in volume of Ratch-two purring.  Drift knew he was in what Earthling organics had called a sand trap, but he was uncertain how to get out of that trap without actually pouncing on the mech in front of him and wrestling him into submission.  Drift shook his helm hard enough to make his gyros go weird enough he has to hold his helm to stop the spinning.

The visiting Ratchet used that opportunity to wake up the cornered mech and place a hand directly above Drift’s spark.  He smiles as he watches the realization dawn in Drift’s optics that Ratch-two was touching him, and he hadn’t melted.  Ratchet leans forward and pecks a light teasing kiss on Drift’s nose, leaving the other mech pleasantly stunned.

“And come to think of it your Ratch insisted that you were so talkative I’d never get you to shut up long enough to ask you out for energon,” he teased lightly.  He glances back over a blocky shoulder to smile broadly at the Lost Light’s CMO.  “I guess I win the bet.  He’s not like Blue at all.”

Ratch-one chuckles and wraps a warm arm around Ratch-two.  He reaches his free hand forward around the other medic to graze fingers over Drift’s audio.  That caught the swordsmech’s attention right away.  The CMO knew the shiver running through Drift’s frame was an attempt to suppress the need to lean into the lingering pets to his audio.  Both Ratchets smiled knowingly at the third in command.  Ratch-two’s digits flexed lightly along Drift’s central seam above the thundering spark.  Drift’s whimper made both Ratchets smile warmly and deepen their own pets over the metal on Drift’s frame.

“There you are!”  Brainstorm swaggered onto the scene brandishing his fixed equipment to send the other Ratchet home.  “It’s all set and read-”  Brainstorm squawks and drops the smolder lump of metal that had been his temporal dimension displacement gun.

Ratch-two subspaced his blaster and leans back into Ratch-one’s frame.  He again lifts a hand to pet over Drift’s chest.  “That machine will no longer be necessary.”  He smiles knowingly at the way Drift’s optics light with growing understanding and a deep possessiveness.  Indeed that machine was not going to be needed for a long while.  The three purring engines drown out Brainstorms’ outraged ranting.

“Y-yeah,” Drift hedged but leaned into each medics’ red digits.  “Yeah we won’t be needing that any time soon.”

Drift’s spark spins as he is rewarded with two dazzling smiles of approval.  This was definitely 1,010% Drift approved on top of the coolest things he had been able to experience.   _ Uh no even better, _ he processor gleefully supplied his spark.


End file.
